


Tomorrow

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bullying, F/M, Fluff, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Reader is being bullied at work by her colleagues who have given her a cruel nickname. Dean’s been a regular in the store and witnesses the reader’s torment and won’t be an innocent bystander.





	1. Chapter 1

There was a chill in the November air as you sat outside, clasping your purse as the bench under your butt slowly let the cold spread through you. Your teeth chattered and your cheeks were frozen from the tears you’d shed but you couldn’t catch the bus home just yet.

You hated days like these.

Nicky had been especially cruel today. Not that he wasn’t a mean heartless bastard every other day of the week.

Your job used to be enjoyable. Then they moved you to the evening shift with the “young” people and they were all spiteful. The managers didn’t care as long as the job got done and you longed to quit but finding another job in a small town was a nightmare.

Sniffing, you wiped your nose on your sleeve, surprised not to find icicles hanging from it. Clutching your purse, you got to your feet and shuffled off toward the bus shelter, knowing the damn thing would probably be late anyway but at least it would be empty.

Tomorrow was another day.

You’d get through. You always did.

*****

Stocking the bakery was always a break from the normal routine. Being a large chain store and one of the only ones in the area, it was always trashed on a Saturday night so the late shift always got the clear up job. With Thanksgiving coming up, everyone was going crazy and you wanted to be anywhere but at work.

The huge electric bill that had landed on your doorstep that morning was just a reminder of why you had to put up and shut up.

“Hey, Y/N,” a deep baritone said behind you and you turned, smiling as you saw one of the regular customers. Dean, last name unknown, was probably one of the most attractive men you’d ever laid eyes on and he liked a specific product your store stocked. It helped that it was in your section, mainly because of the massive crush you had on the guy.

“Cherry pie ran out,” you offered apologetically and his face fell. “But,” you continued, smiling slyly, “I may have snuck an extra one in the back. Didn’t see you last week, so knew you’d be in tonight.”

Dean chuckled, hoisting his basket of groceries further up his elbow. “Darlin’, you are far too good to me.”

“Hang on one minute and I’ll grab it for you,” you said, holding your hands up like you were freezing him in place. Scooting off up the aisle, you jumped over a box that was in the way just as Nicky came waltzing around the corner, grinning as he saw the move.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t know they were teaching elephants tricks at the circus,” he mocked, his laughter echoed by the two blondes off of the checkouts whose names you could never remember. “You wanna do it again, Ella?”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you tried to ignore him, carrying on out the back toward the refrigerated storage. Dean’s pie was hidden underneath a box of crackers that never sold well and you fished it out, hurrying back out to the shop floor.

One of the blondes was standing next to Dean. Tracy? Stacy? You really couldn’t remember. She had her hand on his shoulder, her thumb rubbing under the collar of his shirt and although his smile was pleasant, you recognized the tense body language that screamed please don’t touch me.

“Hey,” you smiled, jogging up and Tracy-or-Stacy sent you a glare. “Told you, kept it special.” Holding out the pie, your expression crumbled when the blonde giggled.

“Haven’t you had enough, sweetie?” she teased, hanging off of Dean like she were a sloth on a branch.

He promptly stepped back and Tracy-Stacy hit the floor on her knees, a position she probably wasn’t unused to. She spluttered in outrage as Dean smirked, taking the pie from your hands gratefully. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You forced a smile on your face, nodding. “Don’t worry about me,” you whispered, “I’m used to it.”

Dean frowned at that. “You shouldn’t have to be,” he pointed out and you shrugged, watching Tracy-Stacy pick herself up off of the floor. If people would wear their name tags and uniforms properly, you probably wouldn’t struggle to remember names so much.

“I saw what happened,” Dean continued in a low voice when the blonde had scarpered off after dropping an “asshole” in his direction that he completely ignored. “That guy, what he said -”

“I said don’t worry about me,” you insisted, backing up, “really, Dean, you’re a nice guy but…” You sighed, shaking your head. “I’m really not worth the effort.”

Without waiting for an answer, you turned, not daring to look back over your shoulder. For twenty minutes, you hid in the storage room restroom, trying not to cry because that would make it the fourth day in a row and really, that was just pathetic.

When you came out, Dean was gone and your manager was looking for you.

After an earful about productivity, the damn broke and you spent the rest of your shift sniffling into boxes, ignoring everyone who came by.

Tomorrow, you’d try again.

*****

Rounding the corner, Dean stopped when he saw a familiar sandy-haired guy stacking the shelves where you normally were. He frowned and looked around, which attracted the kid’s attention. “You okay there, dude?”

Dean blinked at him. “Yeah, er, I was looking for -”

“Oh, you’re Ella’s friend, right?” the guy snickered, “the guy she’s got a crush on?” Pretending to be surprised by that information, Dean remained silent to see what the douche would say next. Of course, he knew about the crush; the way you acted around him made it obvious. “Man, don’t tell me you didn’t know. I mean, you’re leading her on, right? Make the fat-chick feel better?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you call her Ella? That’s not her name.”

The kid made that god awful sniggering sound again and Dean felt the need to punch him. “Well, y’know, Ella The Elephant. Packed her trunk and went to the circus.” Dean’s expression remained blank and the kid kept going like he was talking to a moron. “She’s fat, dude.”

Stepping a little closer, Dean’s hand tightened on his basket - if it didn’t, he’d pull his gun on the fucker standing in front of him. “Think you’re a big man, huh,” he glanced at the name tag on the guy’s bright green shirt, “Nicky?”

“Big man?” Nicky scoffed, apparently not smart enough to realize danger when it was squaring up to him. “Dude, I’m just callin’ ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Dean chuckled, dropping the basket. “You think it’s funny to mock someone’s weight? To lay out their insecurities?” He sucked in air through his teeth, taking advantage of his superior height. “Y’know, my dad always told me that people like you - bullies,” his eyes locked on Nicky’s, who finally started to show a little concern for the situation he was in, “are making up for their own perceived weaknesses.” Dean was almost toe-to-toe with the younger man now.

“I didn’t -”

“Oh, you didn’t mean it?” Dean growled. “What’s your weakness, Nicky? No luck with the ladies?” His eyes dropped for a brief second. “You lacking in a certain department?”

“N-no, man, I didn’t -”

Purposefully moving his arm so the grip of his gun was visible in his belt, Dean felt a thrill of satisfaction when the kid almost pissed himself. “You leave Y/N alone. You stop being an asshole and grow up. And pray to hell that middle age doesn’t give you a generous beer gut because you ain’t never gonna keep a woman with that winning personality.”

Nicky whimpered. The angry beast in Dean’s chest was mostly sated and he stepped back, retrieving his basket from the floor.

“I was getting more pie,” you whispered, stood behind Dean with two cherry pies in your hands, eyes wide and shock on your expression from what you’d seen. “You -”

Dean cleared his throat, smiling at you and his dazzling green eyes lost all of the rage you’d seen in them moments before. “Like I always say,” he chuckled, taking the pies, “you’re too good to me.”

You managed a shaky smile, lowering your voice as you spoke. “You didn’t have to do that.”

With a snort, Dean looked back at Nicky, who was shuffling away toward the storage room. “He’s a dumbass and a bully. I don’t have any time for someone like that.” His gaze softened when it returned to you. “You don’t deserve it, darlin’, no one does.”

“He - he told you -”

“Oh,” Dean chuckled again, shaking his head, “your crush?” He smiled as you stood there feeling like you were going to die on the spot. “Crush is kinda a kids word,” he mused, his eyes dragging over your body in a way no-one had ever looked at you, “because when I tell my brother about you, I tell him about the smokin’ hot chick that always has pie.”

If the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole at that point, you wouldn’t have minded. It was one thing to expect rejection or a cute “thanks but…” but for him to stand there and tell you he referred to you as smoking friggin’ hot - your brain didn’t know how to process that information.

Flight was winning over fight. Your fingers tingled with the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Are you busy later? After your shift?” Dean asked.

Was he asking you out?

“What?” you blurted out, slapping a hand over your mouth as soon as you did. “I mean… no, I mean, what. Like…” You shrugged, unsure what to say or do. “What?”

The amusement on his face was cute, showing off his dimples. You wondered how old he actually was, but it was probably impolite to ask. “I’m asking you out,” Dean confirmed, “and I’d like to know what time you finish work so I can pick you up and take you out for a drink.” He paused, holding up the hand that wasn’t cradling his precious pies. “Or a coffee if you don’t drink.”

“I -” What were you supposed to say? The hottest guy you’d ever laid eyes on that wasn’t Chris Hemsworth was asking you out for a drink. After making the guy who’d spent two years of your life tormenting you cry.

“Hey,” Dean soothed, the smile on his face not waning. “Start with what time you finish.”

“Eight,” you managed, almost choking on the word.

“Okay, eight,” he nodded. “I’ll be outside the front in a black Chevy Impala. You’ll know her when you see her. If you wanna go for drinks, hop in. If not, I will back the hell off and stop being the creepy dude that comes in for pie every other Saturday.”

A giggle left you at that and you relaxed, feeling the tension flow out of your shoulders. “You’re not creepy,” you said, smiling at him. “And I -” deep breath, “I would love to go for a drink with you.”

Dean practically beamed. “Great. I’ll see you at eight.”

*****

You were nervous when you stepped out the front of the store. The rest of your shift had been amusing to say the least - a manager had banned Dean from the store after consoling a sobbing Nicky. You’d been given another reprimand, but you somehow managed to keep the smile on your face for the last two hours.

Dean was right about the car. She was a long, sleek, black beauty and he hung out of the driver window with one arm, smirking proudly. You walked around the front, climbing into the passenger seat and smiling at Dean. “So, where are we going?”

“I know a little bar on the outskirts of town,” he chuckled. “You wanna text anyone or -”

You shook your head. “Don’t really have anyone to text,” you admitted before frowning. “Which is probably a bad thing to admit if you’re a serial killer.”

He laughed at that, reaching over to pull the glove box open, offering you a shiny badge. “Officer Winchester, Kansas City P.D.”

“What are you doing out in the sticks?” you asked, noting the handsome photo on his identification. Dean shut the glove box and sat back, revving the car as he pulled her out of the parking lot. “You live out here?”

“Family property,” he explained. “I’m normally only out here for the weekends with my brother. But he’s got a wife now and is making partner so I usually find myself alone with a pie every time.” He chuckled, glancing over at you. “It’s quiet, peaceful. Different to the city and it’s only a forty-five minute drive from home if I’m needed.”

“Lucky you,” you whispered, “being able to leave.”

“You’ve never left?”

“Well,” you started, shrugging, “I went to Washington D.C. once. And New York. My grandma lives in Arizona but it’s so hot there -” Dean laughed at that. “But no, leaving wasn’t part of the plan. I got stuck in a rut, couldn’t afford college and now I have a shitty little apartment and a shitty job I hate.” He was silent for a moment and you sighed a little. “Sorry, that was kind’ve an information overload.”

Dean smiled reassuringly. “Hey, it doesn’t seem like you have anyone to vent to. Vent away. Trust me, I’m a good listener.”

“Why are you taking me out, Dean?” you asked softly. “Not that I’m not grateful; you’re a really nice guy but you’re… you and I’m -” You gestured down to your bright green shirt that did nothing for your body shape. In all honesty, when you had your uniform on, you felt like a skinned avocado at a rave.

“What’s size gotta do with anything?” Dean countered, the smirk on his face almost sinful. “You’re a woman, I’m a man, does there need to be anything more than that?”

You hesitated, trying to think of another argument. “What if we have nothing in common?” you pointed out and he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “What if I don’t want to sleep with you?” It was a complete lie because anyone who wouldn’t climb Dean like a tree was being completely dishonest.

“If it comes to it and you say no, I’m gonna respect your wishes and still take you out for drinks,” he retorted, “but I think we both know you’re lying about not wanting that.”

Sinking down in your seat a little, you smirked. “Yeah, I kinda am.” Your green shirt was practically glowing in the darkness of his car. “Hey, seeing as you’re a cop and not likely to murder me, could we swing by my place so I don’t look like I’m in a uranium rod costume?”

Dean burst out laughing, shaking his head. “God, you’ve got a way with words. Sure thing, sweetheart.”

*****

“Promise I won’t be more than a minute,” you called through to Dean who sat in the lounge, closing your bedroom door before letting the panic completely overwhelm you. “Shit,” you hissed, grabbing your head with both hands. “What the fuck do I wear?”

Your closet was a mess; if you weren’t in uniform, you were in pajamas and drowning your sorrow in Ben and Jerry’s. The last time you’d dressed up was for your cousin’s wedding and that wasn’t an outfit you wished to repeat.

“The black dress,” you murmured, eyes widened as you remember the dress you bought in J.C. Penney that had actually flattered your curves. At least you’d had a shower that morning and work hadn’t been too grimy, leaving you the benefit of only have to run a brush through your hair.

The dress was hung at the back of the closet, sagging sadly on a hanger and you seized it, almost toppling over in the process. A shoe box slid from the top shelf and clattered noisily to the floor and a second later, you heard Dean shout.

“You okay?”

He was right outside the bedroom door.

Okay, that wasn’t difficult because you couldn’t swing a cat in your apartment but Dean was on the other side of your bedroom door when you were about to get naked.

Ugh, naked.

Sex, which was clearly the end game here, meant being naked. If you went back to his place, you wouldn’t know where the lights are. Your bedroom came with a dimmer switch and the added bonus of knowing the layout.

“This is such a stupid idea,” you groaned, slumping down onto the bed.

The door opened and you looked up in surprise as Dean’s humble expression poked through the gap. “Your doors are like, paper thin,” he explained. “This isn’t a stupid idea.” You laughed, looking away because if you looked at him, you might cry.

Entering the small bedroom, Dean moved closer, sitting next to you on the bed as you clutched the dress in your fingers, sniffing in an effort to quell your tears.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice was so low, you weren’t sure you’d heard him right and you nodded when you figured it out. Dean’s face was serious as he looked at you and you could feel your bottom lip trembling. “Why do you let them treat you like that?”

You tore your gaze away, ashamed. “I tried to log a complaint but the company don’t care. Managers ignore me because Nicky’s popular and everyone loves him.” Dean snorted and you sighed. “In the end… I just gave up. Can’t get another job, gotta pay rent. Besides, they’re not wrong.” Wiping your nose, you refused to look at him. “I am fat.”

A disgusted sound was his first response and you blinked away tears. “Some stick figure women on TV and a douchebag with a small dick doesn’t make you fat. And being fat doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like that. You’re a human being too, Y/N.” His hand touched your thigh and you cringed. If Dean noticed, he didn’t react. “You think because you’re carrying a few extra pounds, you’re any less attractive. Cos I gotta tell you… those cherry pies aren’t the best I’ve had.”

Your head snapped around at his admission. “Then why did you come back for them?”

Dean shrugged. “Gave me a reason to talk to you. I do like pie but…”

“I bake a better one than the store one,” you commented offhandedly and Dean stared at you in shock. “What?”

“You… bake?” he repeated. “Pies?” With a nod, you confirmed it and his face broke out into a grin. “Baby,” he drawled, “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” You couldn’t contain the giggle that suddenly suppressed your tears. “Knew I could make you smile. You’re beautiful either way but when you smile,” Dean sighed, shaking his head, “it’s like the sun breaking through storm clouds.”

The line stunned you and you weren’t sure how to reply. Dean grinned, sitting up straight.

“I’ll leave you to get dressed,” he said, getting to his feet. “And then, we’ll hit the town.”

“You’re really sure?” you asked, standing to face him.

You weren’t expecting the sudden approach or the warmth of his lips on yours. Shock left you a frozen statue in his hold until reality sunk in and you kissed him back. Dean moaned into your mouth, cupping your face with his huge hands.

“I’m sure,” he murmured, breaking away with a dopey smile on his face. “Now, get dressed so I can show you exactly how you should be treated.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains angst. Lots of it.

_ Happy anniversary x _

The text made you smile and you rolled over in bed, stretching out. Dean had gone to work hours ago - a shame he had to spend the day chasing criminals and filing paperwork, but you were quite happy to languish at home and wait for him to return.

Especially with the thought of what you’d purchased in the cute little lingerie shop in town.

Things had definitely changed in the last year. After that first date, Dean had waited all of ten minutes once he’d dropped you off to call and ask you out again. He seemed determined to prove to you that there was nothing pitying about it - he’d had a great time and you had plenty in common. Music, movies, television - you weren’t running out of subjects to cover, even after a year.

The first time you’d slept with him had been a revelation of what could actually occur in the bedroom.

And the hallway.

Or against the front door, like on your fifth date when Dean couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Or… the seventh date where you nearly got arrested for public indecency and were only rescued by the grace of his badge.

You hadn’t let him do anything in the Impala since then, not that he hadn’t tried. Dean was about as insatiable as they came and you couldn’t deny that he’d opened your eyes to certain kinks you weren’t aware you had.

Two months after the first date, you quit your job at the store, finding the courage to start again in a new field with Dean’s support. He got promoted to detective shortly after that, which meant slightly longer hours, but he still made the effort to coincide his days off with yours.

You met his brother very quickly, surprised to find you had friends in common. Sam and his wife, Eileen, were probably the nicest people you’d ever met. When Christmas rolled around, Dean insisted you spend it with him and his family, instead of hiding in your apartment with a tub of ice cream and “ _ A Muppet Christmas Carol _ ”.

His mom and dad were just as nice as he was and you found yourself completely enveloped into the bosom of the Winchester family; Dean asked you to move in with him in Kansas City less than a month later.

Now, it was a year. You couldn’t believe how much your life had changed. Dean’s home was yours; a spacious two-bedroom apartment that he easily afforded on his wages. Nevertheless, you weren’t a kept woman, insisting on paying your part. Although you’d never dreamed of this sort of relationship with anyone, you couldn’t imagine life without Dean now.

Eventually, you dragged yourself out of bed, showering and dressing quickly. Breakfast was a banana and a coffee before you headed down to the store to pick up a few things for dinner. Your intention was to bake a pie - cherry, of course - and be waiting with a steak dinner for when Dean got home.

It was two in the afternoon when your day came crashing down around your ears.

You’d put the television onto the local station, barely paying attention as you made up the pastry for Dean’s pie. As you were decorating the edge with a fork, a news alert came on and the sudden urgent music made you look up.

“ _ A bank robbery involving explosives in downtown Kansas City has left two law enforcement officers dead and three injured. We’re getting more details as they come, so stay with us _ .”

Dropped the fork, you stared at the screen, your blood running cold. A dreadful black feeling settled into your belly and when the phone rang a second later, you thought you were going to puke.

Your hand was shaking when you answered.

“Hello?”

“ _ Y/N? _ ”

The pounding of your heart was so loud, you felt the urge to cover your ears and hide. “Benny? I saw the news…”

“ _ You need to come down to the UC Kansas hospital. I’m sending a car. _ ” His voice was trembling through the phone and you fought the tears that threatened to spill. 

“Is he -”

“ _ No _ ,” Benny rushed out - you could practically hear him pacing. “ _ But he’s in a bad way, Y/N. _ ”

The buzzer for the apartment entrance rang and you swallowed nervously. “I think the car is here.”

“ _ I’ll be waiting for you, okay, cher?” _

You nodded, hanging up and running to find your sneakers. Slipping them on, you grabbed the first coat on the hook, shrugging it on and inhaling the faint scent of Dean’s cologne that clung to the fabric. It was the coat he’d worn on his last trip to visit his brother.

The thought that he might never wear it again struck you out of nowhere and you struggled to hold yourself together. “No,” you whispered, clenching your fists at your sides and taking a deep breath. “Gotta hold it together, Y/N,” you instructed yourself, squaring your shoulders and standing straight. “Gotta keep it together.”

Without a second to hesitate, you rushed out of the door and down to the car.

*****

The hallways of the hospital were filled with cops and not just to support their fallen colleagues. In the same wing as Dean they were working on the shooter, which had every officer on alert. Press were gathered outside the hospital and though you’d been there for three hours, you still hadn’t seen your boyfriend.

It felt worse with every passing second. Benny stayed with you, calling his wife Andrea and keeping her informed. He’d called Sam too and as far as you knew, Dean’s entire family, including his pregnant sister-in-law, were on their way to the hospital.

An officer you didn’t recognize leaned in and spoke to Benny and Dean’s partner stiffened, leaving you unable to control the concern on your face. As the officer walked away, Benny sighed, nodding to himself.

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“The shooter made it.” Benny didn’t say anything else but you knew what it meant - it meant justice for those who’d lost their lives. Since the entire thing started, another two casualties had occurred after the initial blast. Civilians this time, which was causing outrage among the community.

At the end of the corridor, a door slammed open and Sam appeared, towering above mostly everyone in the hall. You stood up, spotting Eileen and Mary behind him. Sam strode through the crowd, reaching you and enveloping you in a hug that almost suffocated you.

“Are you okay?” Eileen asked, offering an embrace when Sam released you. You nodded, letting her hug you before Mary got in with her turn.

“John’s just parking the car,” she murmured, cupping your face, “Y/N, you look exhausted.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, giving her a half-hearted smile. John appeared the next moment, holding Dean’s jacket out to you. You took it, frowning. “Don’t they need this for evidence?”

He shook his head. “They already cleared it. There’s nothing they can use on there.” Holding the jacket in your hands, you pressed your palms against the fabric. “Bobby’s picking up the Impala,” John continued, wrapping his arm around Mary’s shoulders. “Any news?”

“Nothing yet,” Benny interrupted.

Sam’s pale face was filled with concern and Eileen slipped her arm around his waist, hugging him lightly. None of you spoke, unsure what to talk about and you let Benny tug you back to the seats. Folding Dean’s jacket in your hands, you frowned when something fell out; you leaned forward, assuming it was his phone.

It wasn’t. On the floor, on its side, was a small red box, about the size one would find a ring in.

Benny cursed under his breath and everyone watched as you bent down, picking the box up between your fingers. “What is this?” you breathed, staring at it like it was a dangerous creature primed to rip your head off.

Mary stepped forward, crouching beside you and taking your hands. “Dean wanted to surprise you,” she said slowly.

“He was gonna propose tonight,” Benny finished. You remained still and silent with tears rolling down your cheeks. “Dean’s strong, sweetheart, he’ll get through this.” Mary’s fingers squeezed yours, but you didn’t respond, unable to speak through the grief filling your chest.

Three hours later, you were asleep with your head on Mary’s shoulder. Benny had stepped out to get coffee and everyone else was slumped in chairs, some of the officers on the floor, as you waited for news. 

“Winchester?” a doctor called and everyone sat up, some groggily, most on high alert. You were instantly awake and on your feet, still clutching the ring box. The doctor, an older gentleman with little hair left, smiled and approached you and Mary, who got to her feet beside you. “I’m Doctor Parsons, I’m the lead on Mr. Winchester’s case.”

“How is he?” Mary asked breathlessly, taking hold of your hand.

“He’s stable but still very much critical,” Dr. Parsons explained gently and you felt like your heart was going to stop. “We believe we have retrieved most of the shrapnel from the explosion and the bullet missed any vital organs, but has caused significant damage to his right shoulder.”

You weren’t sure what to say but Mary was already speaking. “Can we see him?”

“He’s in recovery and we’re keeping him sedated,” the doctor explained, “but I can allow two of you to see him.”

John took Mary’s elbow. “You and Y/N should go.”

“What?” you exclaimed. “No, John, it should be you or Sam. You’re his family.”

“So are you,” Mary chided softly, squeezing your hand and giving her husband a brief smile. “And I know Dean would want you there.” Fresh tears stung the corners of your eyes and you nodded. Dr. Parsons smiled.

“If you would like to follow me.”

The recovery wing was along a large corridor away from the crowds of officers waiting for news. Despite the repeated urges for them to leave, a lot of them refused and it made you smile at the respect they had for Dean. He loved his job, loved what he did - you just wished it hadn’t ended with him in here.

“Now,” the doctor murmured, pausing by the door, “I want to make sure you’re prepared. Mr. Winchester is hooked up to a lot of different machines and he was very severely injured.” You glanced at Mary, clenching your jaw and nodding for him to continue. “I can’t permit you more than five minutes in the recovery unit but we are hoping to move him to the main wing of the hospital in the morning.”

It didn’t matter what the doctor said - you weren’t ever going to be prepared for how Dean was. 

Mary’s gasp echoed in your ear as you laid eyes on your unconscious boyfriend. She covered her mouth with her hand, tears brimming in her wide eyes; you remained rooted to the spot, everything in you cold and numb except for the ring box between your fingers.

The doctor was talking again but you weren’t listening, letting your legs carry you around the side of the bed. When you stopped, you hesitated, looking up at Dr. Parsons.

“Can I hold his hand?” you asked quietly.

“Of course,” he replied, tilting his head in agreement.

Dean felt cold. His hand wasn’t unmarred by his incident - a thick gash ran from his wrist to the middle of his palm and when you felt the calloused damaged flesh under your fingertips, you sobbed loudly. “Dean,” you whispered, sinking into the chair by the bed, locking your gaze on his face, just about visible through the bandages and bruising. He always seemed so steady, so invincible and brave, but he was human. Just like everyone else.

“When will he wake up?” Mary’s voice was fuzzy, far away as you concentrated on Dean, holding his hand gently. 

“We’re scheduling an MRI to ensure we’ve removed all the shrapnel and to check there’s no extenuating injuries to his head,” Dr. Parsons informed her, “but we’re hopeful we can take him off of sedation when he’s moved.” He picked up Dean’s chart. “His vitals were strong for the past few hours. He came through surgery without any problems so it is looking positive but I would advise caution going forward.” Sighing, he shook his head. “He’s a very lucky man, Mrs. Winchester. And he’s a fighter.”

Mary smiled fondly. “Yeah, he is.”

“May I suggest you go home and get some rest?” the doctor advised slowly. “He’s in the best possible hands -”

“I’m staying,” you said firmly, tearing your attention away from Dean. “I know I can’t stay in here with him but I’m not -”

“No one is asking you too,” Mary said, giving you a soft look. “I doubt we’d be able to get anyone to leave before he’s awake.”

Dr. Parsons smiled. “It’s standard practice to advise, Mrs. Winchester,” he murmured by way of apology, “but I wouldn’t leave if it were me in that situation. When we’ve moved him, I’ll show you to the family waiting room. It’s more comfortable in there.”

“Thank you, Dr. Parsons,” Mary replied, smiling back at him. “For everything you’re doing.”

The box in your hand felt heavier by the moment and you sniffed away fresh tears as you watched Dean’s unresponsive face and listened the machines consistent beeping. “When you wake up,” you whispered, keeping your voice low, “you can ask me and I’m gonna say yes, okay? So you gotta wake up.”

The door opened and an intern walked in. “Dr. Parsons,” he called quietly, “the MRI suite is ready.”

“Thank you, Dr. Johnson,” Dr. Parsons replied, turning to Mary. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to return to the waiting room.”

*****

“Y/N?”

Gentle shaking woke you from your slumped position in the chair. The hallway was bright when you opened your eyes, squinting in the early morning light filtering through the wide windows. Benny was looking down at you, smiling softly.

“Hey, cher,” he greeted, standing back as you stretched. Mary appeared beside him, offering you a coffee.

“Dean’s waking up,” she said when you took the drink and you got to your feet in a panic. “It’s okay, it’s okay, they’re just checking a few things and we can go and see him.” You nodded, shaking a little as you lifted the coffee cup to your lips.

Everything ached from where you’d fallen asleep in the chair. Granted, the family room was far more comfortable than the corridor and a lot of the police had vacated under orders of their captain, allowing only Benny and the rookie they’d been coaching, Jack.

Once again, they allowed only two of you to go and Mary subbed Sam in her place, opting to take Eileen to a hotel as she was exhausted. John decided to remain at the hospital, handing over his car keys without a second thought and walking his wife out as you and Sam followed the doctor to Dean’s room.

Sam stood back, letting you go first into the room; you held your breath, turning the corner to lay your eyes on Dean.

It wasn’t so extreme now. There were still a lot of machines but the awful tube in his throat was gone and he was sat up, looking over at you with bruised and tired eyes. “There’s my beautiful girl,” he murmured, his voice a little scratchy.

You bolted across the room, carefully wrapping your arms around him and he grunted before laughing low in his chest, returning the embrace gingerly.

“Careful, sweetheart, I’m a little fragile.”

“I was so scared,” you whispered, pulling back a fraction to look at his face, covering the unmarked cheek with your hand. “We nearly lost you.”

“Bit of a dramatic way to get time off,” Sam quipped, moving to stand at the bottom of Dean’s bed. “But you never did anything halfway.” He placed a hand on the bed, tapping it softly. “Good to see you awake.”

Dean grinned, following it up with a wince as he accidentally pulled the stitches over his eyebrow. “I’d rather be on a sunny beach than in here but…” He frowned, glancing at you. “You been here all night?”

“Since yesterday afternoon,” you confessed. “Benny called and I -”

He took your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Baby, you need to rest.”

“I’m not the one who got shot and blown up,” you scolded. “Besides, I wasn’t alone.”

“Mom and Dad are here,” Sam interjected. “Well, Mom’s just taken Eileen back to the hotel.”

“She okay?” Dean asked and Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

“Could you worry about you for five minutes, Dean?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “Eileen is fine, Mom is fine, everyone's fine.” Moving to the side of the bed opposite you, Sam sat down, watching his brother with amusement on his face. “And Y/N is gonna go home, have a shower and rest this afternoon.”

“I am?” you blinked, not happy with the idea of leaving.

Dean patted your hand. “You are. I’m awake, I’m out of the woods as far as the doctor’s tell me.” His eyes took on a distinct puppy dog look and you pouted, knowing he was going to get his way. “Please, baby. Go home. Get some sleep. I’ll still be here tonight.”

“Fine,” you whispered, “but I’m gonna be back at six. On the dot. And you better be fine.” You reached into your pocket, pulling out the ring box. “You’ve got a question to ask me.”

Swallowing, Dean chuckled, glaring at Sam. “Some people can’t keep secrets.”

“It wasn’t Sam,” you defended. “It fell out of your jacket.” Placing the box in his hand, you smiled. “Ask me when you can get down on one knee again. I promise to act surprised.” Dean grinned, lifting your hand to kiss it again.

“Only if you promise to say yes,” he quipped back and you giggled, tears escaping in the height of your emotions. “Hey, don’t cry,” Dean whispered, his grin disappearing.

“I’m sorry, I’m just,” you sucked in a breath, trying to calm yourself, “I’m just relieved you’re gonna be okay.”

Dean’s grin returned and he winked. “Hard to kill a Winchester.”

*****

The apartment was cold when you arrived home and you shrugged your coat off, shutting the door. Heading into the kitchen, you stopped as you saw the scene of your previous creation. The pie crust was soggy, half-sliding off in places and the fruit underneath was beginning to turn.

With a sigh, you picked it up, tossing the whole thing into the bin, somehow feeling more despair even though Dean seemed to be fine. Something wasn’t sitting well in your chest and you leaned against the skin, trying to calm your racing heart.

A frantic pounding at the door made you turn and you frowned, rushing to answer. Sam was on the other side and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. He was holding his phone in his hand.

“Mom called,” he panted, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “we need to go back to the hospital. Now.”

“What happened?”

“Dean’s back in surgery.”

Dread made you want to puke but you pushed through it, grabbing your keys and slamming the door as you chased Sam down the stairs to the front. The car was still running outside and you slid into the passenger seat, clutching your knees nervously as Sam peeled away from the curb, tires squealing on the concrete.

“He was fine,” you whispered, finally breaking the silence and Sam nodded grimly. “Sam, they said -”

“I know,” he snapped, tears in his eyes. He wiped furiously at them with the back of his hand, sniffing as he guided the car through the city streets to the hospital, breaking the speed limit. “We won’t know anything until we get there.” Another vehicle cut him off as he took a turn and Sam slammed his hand onto the horn. “Asshole!”

You couldn’t help it - you burst into tears.

Sam fell silent, his expression grim. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, reaching over to touch your shoulder, keeping his eyes on the road. “This isn’t easy for any of us.”

“It’s okay,” you sniffed back, “I’m just really emotional right now.”

He smiled. “Understandable.”

It started raining as you climbed out of the car, waiting for Sam to lock up before both of you crossed the parking lot. Above the hospital, black skies threatened worse weather and in the distance, you heard thunder rumbling.

Mary and John were sat in the waiting room, side by side and silent. “Hey,” Sam greeted, entering first. Getting to her feet, Mary embraced her son. “Eileen’s fine, she sends her love but she can’t…” His words faltered and he shook his head. “She feels awful.”

“She shouldn’t,” John grunted. “She’s carryin’ a precious load.”

“What happened?” you asked and Mary took your hand.

“He was sleeping,” she replied, her face red and puffy from crying, “then he start to shake and they said it was a seizure.”

“Where is he?”

“Back in surgery,” Mary whispered, fresh tears clinging to her eyelashes. “Dr. Parsons is keeping us updated.”

“Do they know what caused it?” Sam pressed and his dad took hold of his arm as Mary burst into sobs, flinging her arms around you. John’s face was pale and he looked exhausted. “Dad?”

“They think there might be shrapnel they missed. It’s hard to get everything without a specific kind of scan - I’m not gonna pretend to know the word he used.” With a sigh, John scrubbed a hand over his face.

Sam reached out and patted his dad’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be fine. Dean’s a stubborn asshole,” he grinned and caught John’s eye, “just like someone else I know.” It rose a smile on the older man’s lips and he pulled his youngest son in for a hug.

You watched them over Mary’s shoulder, hoping against hope that what Sam said was true.

*****

Sleep wouldn’t come this time. No matter how many times you closed your eyes, it wouldn’t happen. John had taken Mary to your apartment at Sam’s insistence; she was barely holding herself together. In all honesty, you didn’t feel like you were doing too good but you weren’t leaving Sam there alone and you didn’t think you could face leaving again.

Sam brought coffee a few hours after you’d returned. There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t ache but you didn’t complain, watching him fold himself into a chair far too small for a man of his size.

“What’s the time?” he asked tiredly, scratching at his messy hair.

“Nearly midnight,” you replied, running your thumb along the seam of the coffee cup. The liquid was just habit at this point. Dean would be criticising the poorly brewed drink - he hated hospital coffee. “We should head out to Starbucks when he wakes up. Or order in. Or something. He hates hospital coffee.”

Sam huffed a laugh. “Yes, he does.”

“And get him a burger,” you continued, unwilling to acknowledge the tears running down your cheeks, “otherwise he’ll only bitch about the food too.” 

A warm hand covered yours and you looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “It’s okay,” he soothed.

“I feel useless,” you sobbed, wiping at your face. “More so than usual.”

“You are not useless, Y/N,” Sam chided, frowning as he produced a napkin from his pocket and offered it to you. “Dean thinks the world of you. He loves you. He wants to marry you.”

“I don’t know why.”

His mouth set into a thin line. “Back on this, huh?” You glared at him, suddenly feeling under scrutiny. “Dean couldn’t care less what size you are, as long as you’re healthy and happy and…” Sam shifted uncomfortable, looking a little green around the gills. “And his, I suppose. You know how much he talks about you?”

It was your turn to squirm and you shook your head. “No, I mean, he told me that you were sick of hearing about me before he’d even asked me out.”

“Don’t remind me,” Sam mocked playfully, “I felt like we were practically family the moment we met because of his ranting.”

“I never understood why he was even interested in the first place.”

“Ass,” Sam quipped. “Dean is absolutely an ass man.” You giggled through your tears and Sam grinned, tapping the underside of your chin with one finger. “Knew I could make you smile.” 

The doors of the waiting room opened and Dr. Parsons walked in. He looked more exhausted than you felt and you knew you could never thank him for what he’d done. No matter the outcome, he’d been here for nearly twenty-four hours.

“Miss. Y/L/N?” he asked and you nodded, standing up and clinging to Sam’s hand. The doctor smiled. “Dean is asking for you.”

Relief swept through you in a tide strong enough to force you back onto your butt and the tears came thick and fast. Sam released your hand as you covered your face with your fingers; he moved to shake the doctor’s hand briefly, thanking him before turning his attention back to you.

It was like walking through clouds as you let Sam guide you toward Dean’s room. When you entered, seeing him sat up like before, grinning at you like a loon, you almost crashed to the floor.

“Hey,” he greeted, his throat dry.

“You ass!” you cried out, collapsing across the bed, clinging to him. “I thought you said you were gonna be fine!”

“I am!” Dean defended, laughing. “I mean, I didn’t know there was a piece of metal lodged against a nerve but it definitely explains the headache.” He turned his head, showing you the shaved patch the back. “I’m gonna have to wear a hat for a while though.”

Sam grinned as you glared at his brother. “You are such an ass, Dean,” you growled. 

“Well, hey, look,” Dean cleared his throat, “just in case I decide to do it again, can I ask you something? I can’t get down on one knee -” He held up the little ring box, grinning at you. “Will you marry me, Y/N?” Opening the box, he pulled out the ring, offering it to you. “Please?”

“You didn’t have to say please,” you whispered, letting him slip the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, the little cluster of diamonds surrounding a sapphire in the middle, glinting in the dim hospital lights. “And it’s yes. You dick.”

Dean laughed loudly and pulled you in for a kiss, threading his fingers through your hair where he could. You broke the caress, breathing against his lips. “I love you, Y/N,” Dean murmured quietly, “always will.”

“Love you too.”

Sam’s not-so-subtle cough pushed you apart and he grinned at the both of you. “Congratulations. I guess I should go call Mom?”

*****

You were at the sink, washing the dishes from dinner, listening to the radio and humming along. When big hand encircled your waist, you giggled, leaning back against Dean. He pressed a kiss to your neck, rumbling his approval when you pushed your ass into his crotch.

“I’ve missed you,” he grunted.

“I’ve been right here.”

“I mean with the court case and everything,” Dean groaned, grinding back against you to let you know just how much he’d missed you. “Feels like I’ve barely seen you since I came home.” The gruelling months of physiotherapy that had followed his injury had left Dean exhausted and when he’d finally returned to work, you’d worried he was pushing himself.

“Not my fault you’re incapable of taking it easy,” you scolded, turning in his hold and planting your wet hands on his chest, soaking his shirt. “Oops.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

“Don’t wear white shirts around me then,” you giggled, watching the dark patches turn the fabric almost see through, right above his nipples. “So, you have the week off?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do. And I know you do too because I called Jody and made sure you did.” You blinked at him, pushing back. “You better go pack a bag.”

“Why?”

Unbuttoning the first button on your blouse, Dean smirked and licked his lips. “Because in a few hours, we’re gonna be on a plane. I booked us tickets to San Diego. I’m taking you to the zoo.” You gasped, flinging your arms around his neck.

“You didn’t!”

“I know you were saying about going and since our last anniversary didn’t go so well…” He trailed off, looking away and you laid one hand on his cheek, forcing his gaze back to you. “I wanted this year to be special.”

“It already is special,” you murmured, trailing your thumb across his full bottom lip. “You’re here. That’s all I ask for.”

Dean shrugged. “Even so… I know you wanted to go.”

You watched him as he moved his finger, unfastening another button on your blouse. “How long do we have?” you breathed, not stopping him as he kept undoing buttons. “Because you’re giving me ideas here.” Dean grinned, capturing your mouth in a kiss again.

“What kind of ideas?” he teased, undoing the last button before cupping your breasts through your bra.

“The kind where we’re rushing to the airport,” you replied, gasping as he tugged down one bra cup and fastened his mouth around your nipple. “I swear, if you don’t fuck me, Dean Winchester -”

“You’ll what?” he dared, quirking one eyebrow as he looked at you, his mouth still pressed against your breast, tongue darting out to tease the solid peak. “Do you even have anything to threaten me with?”

You growled in frustration. “Dean -”

Chuckling, Dean swiftly pulled back, taking hold of your hands. “You’re so grumpy when you’re sexually frustrated.” Swaying your hips a little, you let him guide you, fixing him with what you hoped was a sultry look. “Oh, baby, you’re beautiful when you’re pissed at me.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, giving up on the game and stomping past him, shrieked when he slapped your ass playfully before tackling you into the bedroom. His demanding and sloppy kisses made you laugh and when Dean finally had you on the bed, he attacked properly, licking into your mouth as his hands worked at getting you naked.

“Goddamn I can’t wait to see you on the beach,” he groaned, cupping your full breasts and sucking on each nipple in turn. “Gonna put a sexy bikini on for me?”

Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment. Being barely clothed around Dean didn’t make you bat an eyelid but you weren’t blind to the looks you got when you were out with him. Okay, you’d lost a few pounds - probably due to all the sex because Dean was fucking insatiable - but you weren’t the sort of girl you’d  _ expect _ to see with someone like him.

The lack of response made Dean frown and pause, balancing with his arms either side of you. Leaning down, he nipped at your bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, not very convincingly. Dean stared at you and you sighed. “Bikini, really?”

He laughed, shaking his head and kissing you as you scowled. “Yeah, really. You know what I think of your body?” Kissing down your jaw and across your chest, he groaned. “I think you’re delicious. Soft in all the right places,” his teeth grazed your nipple and you whimpered, “tight in the right ones too. You taste like sin and you’re fucking heaven when you’re screaming for me, baby.”

“Fuck, Dean -”

“And I love it when you curse,” Dean added.

His fingers pressed between your thighs. “Dean, please!”

“Impatient,” he chided, sliding two digits into your soaked core, using his other hand to hold you down. “I remember how sweet you were when we first slept together. Now you’re begging for my dick every chance you get.”

“You’re an asshole,” you ground out, clutching the sheets as he started to thrust his fingers slowly.

“I’m your asshole,” Dean corrected. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?” A strangled whine left you when he curled his fingers to find your sweet spot and he grinned smugly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”


End file.
